Speak Now
by char-tomio
Summary: That moment when the love of your life is getting married to another man and you have absolutely no choice but to crash the whole thing when the preacher says 'Speak now? It happens to Russians, too. RussLiech. (EngLiech fans, please do yourself a favor, scroll down and pretend you didn't see this fic.)


**Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia. Or Taylor Swift's song.**

**a/n: Sort of spin-off from my other RussLiech fic Three Faces of Ivan (you don't want to read that. It's 40 chapters long. Anyway, Russia and Liechtenstein are best friends there)**

**EngLiech fans, do yourself a favor and don't read this. I like England, but I don't really pair him with Liechtenstein.**

_**For Hufflepuff-Sunflower and vvheel.**_

* * *

He took two steps.

_One, two._

And saw white.

_White. Everywhere._

He tapped the faucet pipe on the concrete brick steps. The church was in front of him, revealing the heavily decorated church decorated with white roses. _Roses._ _Those were not her favorite flowers._

* * *

_**I am not the kind of guy**_

_**Who should be rudely barging in on a white-veil occasion**_

_**But you, are not the kind of girl**_

_**Who should be marrying the wrong guy**_

* * *

Ivan Braginski heaved a large, distressed sigh. This is it, he thinks. My best friend's wedding. He couldn't hardly believe he had to sneak in, he was practically the bride's best friend! Although trespassing ('barging in' sounds a bit too pushy), was not his style, he had to, and besides, invited or not, everyone at least expected him to be there.

And he had to save his clueless best friend from the cursed fate that awaits her.

He hid as much as possible, but it seemed impossible with his height. When a few people did catch sight of him- Roderich, Elizaveta, Francis, even Vash Zwingli, they seem to be quite relieved.

"Such a lovely day, oui, mon ami?" Francis was grinning like a maniac. He practically lived for scenes like this. Ivan nodded pleasantly, readjusting his itching collar underneath his scarf for the tenth time. The scarf is white, something which her best friend had picked out for him to wear on this day.

It would be so nice if he wore this while being wedded to her.

A few friends greet him, some others just do the same thing as Francis, smirking, grinning to the high heavens. He smiled, seeing how supportive everyone was this day, (they normally weren't) but when he catches sight of that man, that man with the big, bushy eyebrows and his family, he couldn't help but feel a pit inside his gut. Arthur Kirkland, the groom well known for his nonexistent patience, was yelling at little Raivis Galante for making his tuxedo smell like vodka. The corner of his lips threatened to fall. No one had the right to treat Raivis like that, except for himself, of course. But yes, he found the fact that the groom's suit smelling like vodka quite amusing. Ha, definitely a sign!

The wedding doesn't quite go as planned. The priest was late, Arthur was still condemning Raivis to death because of his suit and was using all methods known to Englishmen to get rid of the smell. Poor Lilli must be tired, waiting in the backroom.

Tired like he was, daydreaming, wishing that the few minutes God was generously giving her would be enough to make her realize the greatest mistake she was about to make.

* * *

_**Don't say 'yes', run away now,**_

_**I'll meet when you're out of the church at the back door**_

_**Don't wait, or say a single vow**_

_**You need to hear me out, and they said 'Speak now'.**_

* * *

He blinked, finding himself sitting on one of the back pews next to the ornamental bouquet of white flowers and Heracles Karpusi, who was now sleeping on his shoulder. _Right, a daydream._

Ivan saw the Kirklands exchanging gestures of good will towards the largely-irritated Vash. He wondered, what led Vash to suddenly disagree about their relationship? _Or maybe he didn't agree from the start.._

He snapped out when the church organ suddenly started to play some song that...sounded like a death march. Yes, it was terrible. Terrible enough to wake Heracles up with a gasp. People all around eyed the bride, and Ivan didn't have to stretch his neck to see her. (One, because he was sitting at the edge, and two, because no matter where she was, he always sees her first in a room. Not to mention he was tall as hell. He knew that.)

"There she is." Ivan blinked and looked back at the church doors.

* * *

White.

All white.

* * *

There she was, standing so beautiful and proud in all her white glory. Although she looked perfect to him everyday, there was something about her that made her look a little less perfect today. Sure, it had something to do about the girl he so loved getting married to a man he detested, but looking closely, her dressed seemed to be too tight.

Then he remembered that English Victorian fashion and breathing did not go hand in hand.

Sigh.

She walks oh-so gracefully with a bouquet in her hand, looking ahead at her future husband. But what shocks everyone, especially Ivan Braginski himself, is that she shifts her gaze to the left.

_**And I,**_

Their eyes meet.

_**know,**_

_**You wish it was me,**_

Her smile is at her widest, telling him something like, 'I thought you wouldn't come'. He grinned as well.

* * *

_**You wish it was me, don't you?**_

* * *

She giggled.

His face fell as she shifted her gaze away from him and back to Arthur Kirkland. He had a hand, slightly extended, as if to reach out to her, but it drooped down, hidden away.

_No._

_'Don't say yes. Don't say 'I do' to him.'_

_'Don't you dare say your vows just yet.'_

He lowered his gaze.

_'Don't do this, please.'_

She continued her walk, and with every step on the suede red carpet, looked slightly stifled of air. _The damn corset is choking her._ He just wanted to carry her away from this place, rip off the corset and give her the dress he had wanted to give her before all this..

And the dress they planned to pick out for their own wedding. He would let her choose. Choose whatever she thought was comfortable and he would still find her beautiful, no matter what.

Arthur extends an eager hand, which she accepts, gathering her long skirts and stepping up the little stairs before the altar. Everyone noticed how tall her white porcelain heels were. And Ivan thought that if they ever get married, he wouldn't let her wear uncomfortable heels.

* * *

_**Your time is running out,**_

_**And they said 'Speak now'.**_

* * *

Ivan bent down, head in his hands. The whole ordeal, being here was just killing him. The priest- Lovino Vargas, was babbling all sorts of stuff he didn't want to pay attention to. _Because it was just dead wrong..! Nyet, nyet, nyet.._

He shut his eyes hard, reliving his earlier daydreams. Wait for Lovino to say 'Speak now'. Object. Run away with her to Siberia._ No one goes there...and it's not as bad as people think it is.._and live happily ever after. That's it. That's the plan.

Ivan begrudgingly looked up to the altar.

Lilli arm-in-arm with Arthur.

This was real.

This was reality.

Reality hates him so much.

And he shoved his head back to his hands as Heracles Karpusi fell asleep once again on his shoulder. He smelled like cats. Ivan was seeing reality flashing his life before his eyes- building a cat shelter in Siberia and living there alone for the rest of his-

"Speak now or forever hold your peace."

The voice seemed so unreal. He looked up skeptically at Lovino.

Lovino was practically staring at him. As if he was telling him to man up and do something..

_'Uh..'_ He squinted. Lovino glared at him.

_'Is this...the call of destiny?'_

Yep, he was still glaring at him.

_'You are serious, da?'_ Ivan raised an eyebrow.

That face of his was the very meaning of 'seriousness'.

_'It's..' _his jaw slowly dropped,_ 'It's..'_

It was a miracle no one bothered to realize how long this 'silence' business was taking.

_'IT'S EITHER THAT EXPIRED PIROZHKI I ATE OR DESTINY HAD JUST SUCKER PUNCHED ME IN THE GUT'_ With clenched fists and a weird feeling in his stomach, Ivan abruptly stood up. Everyone gasped. At least Lovino pretended to.

_If anything goes wrong, you can just tell them that you need the restroom._

* * *

_**I am not the kind of guy**_

_**Who should be rudely barging in on a white-veil occasion**_

* * *

"Lilli," Ivan looked up to his best friend in white, who had just turned around to meet his eyes. His once-nervous face drastically calmed down with a soft, close-eyed smile, the same smile he'd flash whenever she needed consoling.

"Why are you marrying the wrong guy?" Arthur clenched his fist and was about to march towards him. Alfred and Ian held him down.

* * *

**So don't say 'yes', run away now**

* * *

"I'll meet you when you're out of the church, at the back door!" he called out to the disbelieving bride. His eyes were hopeful, as he was running to her while Berwald and Mathias kept him from advancing further. "Don't wait, or say a single vow. You need to hear me out!"

And the bride excused herself through the flurry of men. The Nordics, though wide-eyed from surprise, made way for the woman in white as she came rushing to Ivan, with a smile.

She said yes.

She'll meet him when she's out of the stifling corset that was holding her back. The whole church was in a mess. And their little moment was too important for them to be affected.

* * *

_**Baby, I didn't sing a vow,**_

_**So glad you were around**_

_**When they said, 'Speak now'.**_

* * *

**a/n: Ian Kirkland is Scotland.**


End file.
